


The Fragrance of Heartache

by silmarilz1701



Series: A Tale of Two Heritages [11]
Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Between Episodes, Deleted Scene: Humanity of the Broken, Episode: s01e08 The Last Patrol, Gen, Klixonverse One-Shot, Mourmelon-le-Grand, Tumblr Prompt, War is hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25344268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silmarilz1701/pseuds/silmarilz1701
Summary: After Bastogne, after Haguenau, the paratroopers got much-needed rest. But a few of them find small things bring back bad memories, like the scent of rose soap, or an early spring storm.
Relationships: Lewis Nixon/Original Female Character(s)
Series: A Tale of Two Heritages [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572553
Kudos: 4





	The Fragrance of Heartache

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt given on Tumblr by @jamie506101 from @wecomrades' fabulous list. Number 26, Donald Malarkey + “I hate war” + smell of roses

**March 1945**

_Camp de Châlons, Mourmelon-le-Grand, France_

* * *

For the first time in months, Alice stood staring into the darkness of evening while rain pounded against the windows. Every few moments the grounds in le Camp de Châlons lit up spectacularly from a flash of lightning, followed by thunder not far behind. She preferred rain to snow. To be honest, Alice preferred anything to the snow.

Back in Mourmelon-le-Grand, she’d tried to catch up on the sleep that had eluded her since before the turn of the New Year. It was already March. Had it really been that long? She sighed. Three months. Another flash, another bang.

She winced. At least the lightning gave her body time to prepare for mother nature’s version of artillery fire. Then again, lightning was really just mother nature’s version of a flare. The storm outside offered her a momentary distraction from the nostalgia-driven panic attack she’d almost worked herself into after her shower.

The bar of soap smelled like roses. It had been so long since she’d smelled the fragrance she’d one time loved with all her heart. Now it just brought heartache, standing alone at her window in the dark, waiting for the next flash and thunder.

The tiniest smile cracked her perpetual frown. Ironic choice of words, that. She tugged at some of her frizzy, damp hair and took a sniff. Roses. Her hair still smelled like roses.

Somehow it made her angry. War had taken so much. It’d taken her homes, her youth, her family, her friends, and most recently it had taken Bill, and Joe, and Buck. It had taken Skip and Alex. Hoobler’s easy smile was gone forever. Jackson’s life had been cut short. They hadn’t even entered Germany yet. And somehow what made her angriest in that moment was that war had managed to turn the floral fragrance of roses into a fragrance of heartache.

Another flash. Alice narrowed her eyes. Was that Malark? What was he doing scurrying between buildings at close to midnight?

Refusing to let her own self-pity stand in the way of her self-appointed morale officer job, Alice left her silent sentry point, grabbed the coat the army had finally issued them, and sped out of her room. It didn’t take long. After taking two stairwells in which only the harmonies of rain and pounding boots filled the air, she ended up outside. 

She swore the rain had increased. Taking a deep breath, she ducked out into the cold and wet, dodging under roofs where she could. Malarkey hadn’t been far. As another flare of lightning sliced across the sky, she paused and braced herself. The thunder blasted moments later. 

Alice caught up to him just as he entered the enlisted area. “Malarkey! Hey, Malark, wait up!” She watched as he spun around, shading his face in the downpour. Alice skidded next to him, squishing under a small overhang with him. “What are you doing? It’s almost midnight.”

“What are you doing,” he countered. But instead of bitter bite, it just sounded tired. He sighed. “I was trying to see if I could find get into Skip’s bank account, see if I can send his folks the money I gave him last time.”

“At midnight?” Alice stared at him. Trying to wipe her face with a sleeve, she shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

“Don’t I know it. We jump outta airplanes, remember,” he said. Then he smiled a bit. “Now what the hell are you doing up? It’s almost midnight.”

“I took a shower.”

“Congratulations?”

Alice rolled her eyes. She squished further against whatever door they had tried to seek shelter under. “Somehow I ended up with rose soap,” she tried to explain. With a shake of her head, she just shrugged. “It’s just stupid. Brought back some bad memories.”

“At least you smell good,” he muttered.

She sighed. That was true. There were worse scents than rose. Like blood. Or death. Another lightning strike, and instantly the loudest bang she’d heard since Bastogne roared around them. She cowered back. 

“God, I hate war,” Malark snapped. “It even took the rain!”

She’d never really seen Malarkey angry before. Sometimes he got frustrated and snippy, but he had always been pretty good at keeping that reined in for the sake of the men, she figured. The winter had done a lot of damage to all of them.

She frowned. “It isn’t fair. None of you should have to be here.” Her discussion with George in Rachamps over whether or not there was any logic in sacrifice came flooding back to her. “This is our war.”

“Well, the Japs did bomb us,” he argued back.

That was true. Alice paused. Maybe the Americans had as much of a reason to be invading Germany as she did. “I guess that’s true.”

“What, you forgot?” Malarkey actually let out a laugh. He shook his head. “Maybe you’re crazier than the rest of us if you just joined up with Americans for fun.”

Alice let out a small laugh. “You’re the one who was dodging between buildings in a cold downpour at midnight!” She flinched as another thunderclap sounded around them. “Why the hell I followed you, I’ll never know.”

“Jeanne d’Arc,” he reminded her. 

Jeanne d’Arc. Skip’s nickname for her behind her back. Alice smiled. To be compared to her was an honor, and foolish. “I’m definitely not her. She was Catholic, remember. I’m Jewish.”

“Can’t win ‘em all,” he said.

Alice shook her head. The rain started to ease up. The time between lightning strikes and thunderclaps increased each time. When the downpour became more manageable, she and Malarkey both eased out from the tiny hideout they’d found.

“Did you?” Alice asked.

Malarkey frowned. “Did I what?”

“Get Skip’s money sent home?”

“Oh.” He shook his head. “No. They won’t let me near his stuff. Said I’m not family so I can’t touch it.”

“Let’s hope I don’t get killed then,” she muttered. “Or all the savings I’ve built up will just disappear.”

Malarkey frowned. “You’re not gonna get killed. Don’t think like that.”

  
“Sorry.” She sighed. They moved through the gentle rain towards Easy’s throw together shacks. Alice just shook her head. “I need another shower.”

  
“With rose soap?”

She paused to think about it. Malarkey had said the war had even taken the weather. Maybe she should take back the scent of roses. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I will.”

“The boys are probably still up,” he reminded her. They reached Second Platoon’s lodging. “Poker?”

Alice smirked. “I’ve been cleaning out the officers quite well, recently. Are you sure you want to risk it?”

“What’ve I got to lose? Dignity?” He scoffed. “Come on. I think they’d want us to.”

Which ‘they’ he meant, she couldn’t be sure. Probably all of them, anyone they’d lost in Bastogne. So she nodded. As she walked in and listened to Liebgott and Alley heckling a visiting George Luz, she just smiled. Roses could wait. She had these guys to beat in poker first.


End file.
